


Lovers in a Dangerous Time

by CobaltStargazer



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Late Night Conversations, Secret Relationship, Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-30
Updated: 2014-08-30
Packaged: 2018-02-15 10:50:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2226306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CobaltStargazer/pseuds/CobaltStargazer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a rough case, Spencer shows up at Elle's in the middle of the night. She's already waiting for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lovers in a Dangerous Time

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written Spencer and Elle in nearly a month, and I started to miss them.

Elle didn't get phone calls after midnight anymore, not since she resigned from the Bureau. The house was quiet, the dog snoring softly in the laundry room. Rain pattered against the windows, and the rumble of thunder could be heard. The kitchen clock said is was two-forty-seven in the morning. 

The phone had rung just after midnight, waking her from a dead sleep, and just like the old days it had been Aaron Hotchner on the other end of the line. Elle had been following the case in Albuquerque, and the only reason she hadn't spent more than a day and a night with Reid was because she didn't want to interfere with the way he worked. There had been three victims when the BAU was called in, boys ranging in age from seven to ten, and when an arrest was finally made the UnSub turned out to be a thirteen year old local named Simon Jessup. The formal profiler had watched the announcement on the news with a sinking feeling, and when she got the call, she wasn't surprised.

"I'm sorry, I know it's late." Hotch's voice had been apologetic but not defensive, and the brunette had waved away the words as if he could actually see her do it.

"I was awake. It was on the eleven o'clock news."

"We're about to take off," he'd said, and the pause was so long that she'd thought she'd lost the connection because of the storm interfering with the satellites. "He took a car and left before we did. He's on his way to you."

For a second, she had thought he'd finally put it together, then decided he hadn't. That was a secondary concern, anyway. "Jesus, Hotch, you let him drive in this?" she'd asked, looking out the window at the rain-soaked street. 

"Let him?" Aaron had sounded dryly amused, and despite herself she'd smiled a bit when he added, "We've had that conversation, remember? I don't 'let' him do anything.. I just wanted to give you a heads up that he's on his way. We _are_ going to need him back sooner rather than later, but I told him he can have a day or two."

"Well, my door is always open to him, for as long as he wants me." She'd been going to say 'needs', then decided against it. Spencer was a man, not a little boy, and while he was sometimes a hot mess, he was _her_ hot mess. On the other end of the conversation, she heard Hotch let out an amused snort through the static. "Aaron?"

"Yes?"

It took her a minute to put the words together, then to actually say them. "Thanks for calling to let me know. And thanks for caring about him."

There was a pause, and again it stretched out for so long that Elle thought she'd lost him, and then Hotch said, "Well, you care about him too, and that's good enough for me."

He'd ended the call before she could respond, and now she was just waiting for the knock or for the bell to ring. She'd turned the porch light on. The storm had picked up, and every now and then the dark sky would turn white when lightning flashed. If he ended up in a ditch, she was calling the cops.

Spencer had been on auto-pilot when he'd left the others at the hotel, and the drive seemed to simultaneously take hours and be over in the blink of an eye. Cases involving kids were the worst. Cases with children who turned out to be the perpetrators were worse than that. The windshield wipers did battle with the rain, sluicing water off of the glass as he drove. He was never so glad to see the yellow glow of a light in his life when he realized Elle had turned the porch light on. It was raining so hard by then that he was soaked to the bone by the time he reached the covered porch, and he stood there dripping after knocking.

She took one look at him and pulled him into the house. It was December, and the weather was unusually cold. She'd set out a pair of pajamas and a towel in the bathroom. He shuffled past her, looked over his shoulder. "Do you need me to..."

"No." He shook his head, and rain dripped from his hair and down the back of his neck. He was quite freezing, but he was cold. He started to peel the sodden sweater vest away from his body so that he could get at the shirt buttons beneath it. He could feel her hovering, but he knew she wouldn't come into the bathroom unless he asked her to.

"Okay." She stepped away from the door, leaving him to close it if he felt the need. She moved into the kitchen, set up the Keurig to perk. It was just past four. 

Once Spencer had taken his clothes off, he began to towel himself off, then did a half-assed job of drying his hair. He'd spoken with Simon Jessup's parents at the time of the boy's apprehension. They'd been angry about the accusation at first, then shocked. As the investigation continued and the evidence piled up, shock had become a sort of numb dread, and finally shame that their son could have done such a thing. In the Now, the profiler felt as if he'd been put through the ringer himself. Simon had been docile when he'd been arrested, his youthful face open. Three victims, three children who would never come home again, and another family struggling to cope with the devastation of knowing that one of their own was responsible for it.

He stepped out of the bathroom, the towel around the back of his neck, and there was a cup of coffee sitting on the end table in the hall. The pajamas were still neatly folded on the counter next to the sink. When he was with Elle, there was no such thing as body-consciousness. He would have to put his clothes through a wash and dry cycle. He knew what was in rain water, and that meant they'd need cleaning later.

She was in the bedroom, semi-watching the television she'd turned on as a distraction, and when Spencer stepped into view she muted it. They looked each other over, him from the doorway, her from the bed. She put the remote aside, made room for him on the mattress.

"Come here, baby." Elle was the only one who could call him 'baby' and make it sound sexy rather than condescending. "Come here and talk to me."

Spencer was dry and a little warmer when he joined her on the bed, dropping the towel on the floor. He rested his head on her shoulder, and she slung an arm around him. Her hair tickled his cheek. He wanted to be angry, but mostly he was just tired. Tired and sad. 

"What happens to the kid? Thirteen's too young to be incarcerated with adults."

"He'll be institutionalized, probably for the rest of his life. There'll be a psych evaluation when he gets older, and that will determine whether he remains hospitalized or goes to prison." She felt him shake his head, his chest expanding as he sighed. She gave his shoulder a squeeze.

"I spoke to him before we figured it out." His voice wasn't quite a monotone, but it was close. "We interviewed the friends of the boys, and he was close to the oldest victim. He looked right at me and said he had no idea of what happened. And then when the police took him away, he was _calm_ about it, as if he'd only be gone for a few hours. I don't know how I didn't see it."

"Profiling isn't magic, Reid," Elle said. She still had her arm around him. She'd started to play with his hair, the damp strands slipping through her fingers. "It is reliable, and it does work, but it isn't infallible. And as much as I love you, neither are you." She doubted he wanted her to baby him, and while she loved him so much that it was like pain sometimes, she wasn't about to insult him by telling him to just get over it. He made a noise, somehow managed to press even closer to her.

He knew she was right, and that he wasn't psychic, but it was difficult to accept that he couldn't always see what was right in front of him. "How did you know to turn on the light for me?"

"Hotch called," she said wryly, and he lifted his head to look at her face. "After I snarled at him about you being on the road in this weather, we had something that might have been a conversation." 

A sheepish smile touched his mouth, and he said, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to worry you. It's why I didn't call, so you wouldn't know I was on my way."

Elle shook her head. "I'm just glad you're here. The storm should let up by the morning, so you can stay for another day or so before heading back." She was rubbing the small of his back as she talked, a gentle massage, and he kissed the side of her neck. "You don't mind? I could sleep on the couch. I wouldn't want to just...well...assume."

And he did worry about it sometimes, that the distance and his erratic work hours would cause her to seek out somebody else for more constant companionship. When he was feeling particularly insecure, he tried to imagine resigning himself to it having happened, but it made his heart hurt. The brunette cupped his face in both hands, her darker eyes looking into his hazel ones.

"My house is your house," she said quietly, and he kissed her on the mouth. "Wherever I am, you're always welcome."

"You want me to put something on?"

"Only if you want to. Or unless you've got plans to pounce on me. Which I wouldn't mind, in case you were wondering."

"I'll keep that in mind."

They disentangled, then slid under the covers they'd been lying on top of. Spencer wasn't sure he really felt amorous, but the closeness of Elle's body elicited a warmth that he couldn't deny. He was glad there would always be a light on for him wherever she was.

**Author's Note:**

> So I had started this once before, and then I lost the entire thing when the browser crashed. So what you're reading is an attempt to recapture the tone of the first attempt. Apologies in advance for any suckage due to that.


End file.
